


Help Wanted

by LadyAriaa



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon)
Genre: Adoption, Fluff, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 14:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13320387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAriaa/pseuds/LadyAriaa
Summary: A "missing scene" from Darkly Dawns the Duck.Darkwing was a hero to Launchpad, but what about the moment between when Darkwing is lost and Drake Mallard is found?  Will he feel the same when he sees the man behind the mask?





	Help Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this fantastic piece of work https://splatterphoenix.deviantart.com/art/Inktober-XXX-Found-712492768  
> Awesome work from an awesome artist ♥ Go give it the love it deserves!

The fog was what was causing the darkness, Launchpad was almost sure of that, but that assurance didn’t seem to be enough to convince him that this fact was actually true. Even as he stared into the misty cloud that hung so heavy over the city, he couldn’t comprehend that it wasn’t just the haze of tears that was causing the world to look so hopeless and grim.

Launchpad rubbed persistently at his eyes which deepened the abused, red hue they had developed from his constant attempts to contain his crying. He had done all he could do. Of that he was definitely sure. So why did it feel so much like he had failed them?

So much of the debris that used to be St. Canard tower was already gone. The dust was cleared, fires extinguished, and piles of shattered concrete hauled away in an attempt to hide any evidence that it had happened at all. It made Launchpad somewhat furious. He wasn’t used to feeling this angry, but after several weeks of searching and digging had failed to provide any indication that his fallen hero was alive, the search teams had simply written Darkwing Duck off as yet another unnamed causality. One of many missing people surrendered to the wreckage to be found in who knows what state of decay days or even weeks later.

It made Launchpad’s blood boil in a way that he was unaccustomed to. A curt and deep sob of fury choked from his throat. It was despair laced with anger and it physically hurt to set it free. The tears came again, and Launchpad couldn’t stop them. He dropped his face into his hands, sobbing freely as the anger crumbled and left behind nothing but the sorrow that stung far more than any form of hate ever could.

Launchpad was angry at himself more than anything else, angry for being so useless. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t save his hero, but he could do nothing to help that little girl that had placed so much of her trust in them. Trying to hold it together for Gosalyn had been hard, but seeing that spark dull in her eyes had been far worse. To add so much pain to an already agonizing situation, he had held her while she cried and begged him not to leave, and all he could do was lie and tell her it would be alright. Launchpad hadn’t the means or the money to care for Gosalyn, hell he didn’t even have a home at the moment, and he was even less prepared to prove that everything would be okay for her. Worse than that, he didn’t have the guts to even visit her.

The cool autumn air hissed through his teeth as he breathed in deeply to try and calm himself, fingers fisting in his coat as if it would stifle that churning vat of emotion in his gut. It still hurt; it would hurt for who knows how long, but maybe if he could just be strong it would hurt a little less. That thought did very little to help, however. Physically he was a towering man build for whatever roughness the world might throw at him, but that strength crumbled beneath the weight of his sensitive soul and left a mess of rubble where his optimistic heart usually was.

A shrill ring shattered the silence, the metal clatter of the wrench Launchpad didn’t even realize he was holding joining the chorus as he jumped and dropped it to the cement floor. He sighed heavily to calm his racing heart, grumbling softly as he forced his grief worn body to do his job. Jack was kind enough to let him crash in the hanger for free, the least he could do was answer the damn phone, even if he felt more like destroying the thing than answering it.

“Jack’s shack, you crash ‘em, we stash ‘em.”

Launchpad knew he said it, he could clearly hear his own voice pushing out the words one by one, but it seemed more like his tongue was doing it all on its own, the muscle moving on autopilot to deliver that stupid tag line which had become part of his job description. Honestly, he usually enjoyed doing whatever he could to keep the struggling business afloat. It made him feel useful and wanted in this new city that was still so foreign to him, but today it just made him angry and it showed in his tone making the inconvenient caller swallow somewhat timidly.

“Can... can I speak to Launchpad, please?”

The voice was weak, barely audible and definitely somewhat uneasy. It was searching and almost needy in a way that was somehow out of place. There was a familiarity in those raspy vocals, muffled by the suffocating grip of obvious pain, but familiar nonetheless. The uncharacteristic feeling of fury pounding in Launchpad’s chest was swiftly stifled by the sound of it.

“Speaking,” Launchpad said shakily. There was a long pause, occupied only by the distant sound of unsteady breathing and what Launchpad could swear was the sound of a nervously pounding heart. “Who is this?” he asked softly.

“I- It’s… DW.”

The bed ridden mallard on the unseen end of the line winced when the crash of the phone hitting the ground echoed in his ear like a landslide of plastic and wires. Drake swore under his breath as he rubbed at the side of his head with the back of his hand. The burned and bandaged appendage ached from the contact, but his other arm was completely incapable of accomplishing the same act in its currently broken state, so Drake more or less ignored it. Even so, his fingers trembled slightly from the pain as he timidly returned the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” Drake said, receiving only silence in response. “Are you still there? Launchpad? Launchpad!” he coughed as the force of raising his voice even that little bit caused his dust abused lungs to shiver beneath the strain.

The sound of those painful hacks playing from the receiver finally forced Launchpad back to reality, his fingers fumbling with the phone cord as he pulled it back into his hands. “Yes! Yeah, I’m here! Is… is it really you?” he asked softly, disbelief making his voice waver and his tears to grow anew.

Drake swallowed thickly, nodding his confirmation without even considering that Launchpad would be unaware of the confirmatory action. “I’m sorry, I just… didn’t know who else to call.”

“No, it’s okay! You have no idea how good it is to hear from you,” Launchpad replied, relief and happy tears flooding into his voice. “That is, I mean… I don’t even know what I mean I’m just so glad you’re alive! Where are you?!”

“Sparrow Hospital.”

Sparrow. Launchpad wracked his brain, trying to lay down a mental blueprint of his new home town to give him some idea of where exactly that was. He was almost sure he knew, but with his emotions a mess and his mouth fumbling for words he could barely form a coherent thought at all.

“Ca-can you come see me?”

The soft and self-conscious request broke the silence that Launchpad had imposed as his already slow brain tried to catch up to everything, making him smile softly despite the somewhat miserable quality to that whispered plea. Darkwing needed him. He wanted help and support and Launchpad wanted nothing more than to provide it.

“Of course! I’ll be there before ya can say crash course!” Launchpad was enthusiastic, eager, and didn’t even stop to consider the fact that he hadn’t bothered to ask what room the other man was in let alone where exactly the hospital was.

“Launchpad?” Drake asked uncertainly, staring at the phone in confusion when only a dial tone answered him.

A heavy sigh responded, Drake placing the phone to the side with quivering fingers. Why did he just do that? Darkwing Duck was a loner, a deviant, and he certainly never needed anyone before… or maybe he just never had anyone before. Either way, he was suddenly very nervous.

Pain shot through Drake’s nerves at the slight shifting of his body, stripping any self-conscious thoughts from his head as he tried to deal with the discomfort. He cursed the show of weakness. It was a throbbing ache that radiated from every broken bone, every burn, and every shattered edge of his ego. It hurt so much, but he’d be damned if he needed that morphine drip. Nope, he definitely didn’t need to press that button. Darkwing Duck wasn’t weak. Drake whimpered as he settled himself gingerly into the bed, the burning sting seeping into every sound he made as he tried to get comfortable. Darkwing may be strong, but he was starting to think Drake wasn’t quite so much.

Drake hated hospitals. In fact, they made him downright nervous. It was a whole lot of questions and intimate prodding, and he didn’t like it one bit. The superhero gig didn’t exactly come with benefits, so he was used to avoiding the hospital at all costs, and that was very much the way he preferred it, but there was no denying that there was little choice this time. Drake was lucky he survived at all. Now he knew he had to just sit here and take it especially with no one around to care for him. It left him feeling hopeless and forced into a situation that kept him far more stationary than his overzealous temperament was comfortable with. 

He was trapped and alone.

That singular thought had set something off, made something start ticking, and it had been whirring in his head all day as he gathered the courage to actually call that number he had tracked Launchpad to. Drake needed help, and it was the first time in a very long time that he had actually admitted it. It was more than just that though. He was starved for attention, craving it, desperate for some sort of comradery, and Launchpad was the first person he had ever met who actually seemed to want the same from him. That is, besides Gosalyn.

Drake had been hard pressed to admit that he actually enjoyed having them around, but there had been something about the both of them that had made him feel ineffably at ease. It was a strange concept to him. His own family had done little to even acknowledge his existence for nearly a decade now and he barely cared, but having those two redheads in his life for even that short amount of time had left him aching for something that he didn’t really understand, famished for the comfort of family.

Especially Gosalyn.

As he sat alone for what felt like hours, Drake found himself unable to stop thinking about her. He had purposefully avoided asking about Gosalyn. Some part of him was terrified to hear the truth of what had happened. Surely Launchpad had taken care of her right? Surely she was fine. The logical half of Drake’s brain had been assuring him of that for days now, but that didn’t stop his emotions from constantly running through every horrible scenario that could have possibly happened, every small way (no matter how radically improbable) that Gosalyn might have been hurt. Drake’s breath hitched painfully in his throat. As much as his body hurt, nothing had been worse than agonizing over that small girl with that big personality that had already managed to work herself so deeply into his heart. So deep it ached, tormenting him every moment that she wasn’t with him.

Drake choked back a sob as his trembling fingers continued to resist giving into that voice in the back of his head telling him to just suck it up and take the medicine even as the monitor beside him mocked his shaky composure as it beeped out his increased heart rate. His teeth sunk into his bottom bill, drawing blood in an attempt to redirect the pain in his every limb to that one single spot as if it might help him deal with it better. This was a different sort of hurt than he had ever dealt with. It was more than the pain of cracked limbs and singed flesh. It was something indescribable and unbearable.

A loud crash outside made Drake release the hold of his teeth, tightly clenched eyes opening and brow cocking at the door as he strained to listen to the muffled apology outside.

“Heh, never crashed a gurney before.”

Drake rolled his eyes at the sound. Already he so clearly recognized that voice, and somehow the lighthearted laugh and genuine good hearted attitude that came with it instantly soothed his racing heart. Then he realized, he no longer had his mask to hide behind. Launchpad was going to see the truth of what Drake Mallard really was, and he was suddenly painfully aware of his exhausted eyes and bandaged body, making his heart pound once again. A soft knock at the door was followed by a slightly uncertain entrance, and Drake clutched nervously at the rough hospital blanket as if expecting the worst. Still, as soon as he saw that familiar face his expression softened and his weakened muscles did their best to smile warmly at the welcome visitor. 

The grin was weak, but Launchpad could easily see the genuine relief it conveyed. Drake didn’t look like his hero anymore. He looked like the broken, lonely man he was, and for a moment it was a complete shock to the system. Launchpad did his best to pull himself from his preconceived reality to face that truth that lay before him: Darkwing really was just a man.

Launchpad swallowed nervously, but grinned back happily as he slipped his way into the room and closed the door behind him. There was relief and elation in Launchpad’s face, but the shock over Drake’s condition clearly showed through the expression, and it made the other man more than just a bit uncomfortable, stealing the soft smile from his face as he did his best to keep his pain hidden.

“How are ya?” Launchpad asked, desperate to break the silence so Drake wouldn’t be so self-conscious.

Drake wasn’t quite glaring, but he was giving Launchpad a look he knew all too well, a look that meant he had just said something stupid.

“M’sorry, that’s a dumb question, isn’t it?” Launchpad said with a sheepish rub to the back of his neck.

“I’ve heard you say dumber things.” Drake sighed heavily when the response made Launchpad’s face fall pathetically. “I’m… I’ve been better,” he said softly. “But I’m okay.”

It wasn’t really true. Deep down, Drake knew he wanted very badly to just scream that he was in pain, to beg Launchpad for help, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. So he just swallowed the agony and forced that faint smile back onto his face in an intuitive attempt at reassurance as Launchpad settled into the chair beside him.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Launchpad said with a smile that displayed his own fatigue despite how genuinely happy he was. “Must’a been an impressive crash. How d’ya even survive that?”

Drake found himself puffing up his own feathers proudly, unable to resist the opening Launchpad had just given him to brag about his own heroics. “Oh, you know, it’s nothing for a valiant vigilante such as myself. Facing such a plunge of peril with pride and poignant disregard for gravity are all in a day’s work!” Even as he said it he winced in pain, breathing rhythmically as he stopped his attempted movement with a faint whimper. Damnit, he wasn’t hiding his injuries very well after all, was he? “Okay, maybe it was a _little_ more than nothing.”

The obvious display of pain had Launchpad instinctively trying to help, readjusting Drake’s position in a surprisingly gentle manner for a man of his size. “Yeah, it was somethin’ alright, DW,” he said with a bite to his tongue to keep it from mentioning that Drake suddenly didn’t look so okay.  

“Shhh! You can’t call me that around here,” Drake said, coughing softly when the scolding tone irritated his lungs yet again. “People can’t know who I am.”

The reprimanding was mostly an attempt to distract himself from how comforting it really was to have Launchpad help him, but it truly did make Drake unduly paranoid to have the other man use even that vague nickname in what felt like such a public place. Never mind that there wasn't actually anyone around to hear it but them. 

“Well, what’s your real name then?” Launchpad asked curiously. 

Drake’s spine stiffened, adding more pain to his already sore body as his color paled and his eyes shifted away nervously. It was obvious he hadn’t considered that denying the use of one name would prompt the inquiry as to what name Launchpad _should_ be using. He was struggling and it showed.

 “S’okay, you can trust me.”

It was said so gently. It was reassuring and sincere, and it made Drake stare in shock while simultaneously warming his heart in a way he had never really experienced. The way a friend might make one feel. It was such a foreign concept to Drake, having friends, and he found himself uncertain of everything in that moment. It was confusing, strange, it threw his emotions for a loop, and he could swear he went from elated to terrified in seconds that were too fast to count. Still, he liked it.

Drake swallowed thickly, bill falling open and trembling a few times before he finally managed to actually form the words. “It’s D-…. Drake Mallard.”

The name was whispered, as a secret, one that almost seemed to feel like acid on Darkwing Duck’s tongue as he spat it out softly, and cringed at the way it exposed him in such a way that he never had before. His heart skipped a beat at the realization. He had never told anyone. Not one person knew Darkwing’s true identity. Who would he tell after all?  He had no friends, his family was estranged at best, and he had definitely never had a lover in his life. All of the sudden it all felt… rather pathetic.

Drake shuddered miserably as he forced his body to straighten in the bed, trying his best to look a little less pathetic as he turned to address the other man. He opened his mouth to offer some kind of follow-up, but then Launchpad did something so unexpected it stopped him in his tracks. A hand was thrust towards him in a clumsily exuberant fashion, Launchpad grinning ear to ear in such a sweet and ridiculous manner that Drake couldn’t stop his gaping mouth from twitching into a slight smile.

“Nice to meet you, Drake. Launchpad McQuack at your service!”

It was such an absurd and wholly unnecessary gesture, but Drake found himself snickering at the display in spite of himself, the soft chortles quickly growing into deep laughter that he just couldn’t contain, and it continued despite the way it made him cough slightly from the strain. When the laughter finally calmed, the hand was still there, and Launchpad was still grinning expectantly like the fool he was. But he was an enduring fool, and Drake found himself taking the offered hand with one final chuckle. Drake intended to say something in response, but the inadvertent tightness of the grip brought to life the pain once more, the sting radiating from his burned hand and into every other broken bone and bruised nerve so badly that Drake actually cried out at it. He ripped his hand back, his entire body tensing and shaking as the pain scorched through him like vicious venom that wholly intended to kill him on the spot.

Naturally the first thought that came to Launchpad’s head was to go for help, but the still shaking fingers that latched onto his arm stopped him before he could even get up. He stared in shock as Drake doubled over and begged him not to leave, not to call forth some nurse or doctor to lay witness to how frail he was. So Launchpad stayed, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and holding him gently as he sobbed out all the pain. Launchpad just let him cry for a solid minute before he shifted in an attempt to start the morphine drip that he knew was there. He didn’t get far before Drake was gripping at him once again despite the pain in his hand.

“NO!” Drake ordered, “I don’t need some mind-muddling medicine! I’m not WEAK!”

Drake was staring at him now, trying so hard to glare through the pain, but all he could really manage was a grimace and a flush of red in his cheeks. Launchpad was obviously sympathetic, and for a moment that just made things worse, but then his hand was on Drake’s shoulder and his eyes were somewhat pleading as he spoke. “Askin’ for help doesn’t make ya weak, DW.”

Launchpad had already forgotten not to use the nickname, but Drake found himself unable to care in that moment. Something about that felt good. He had always been told the contrary and just to have someone acknowledge that he didn’t have to be strong _all_ the time was enough to ease his pain stricken body at least a little.

For a moment the tears welled up again, and Drake leaned his throbbing head against Launchpad’s chest as he inhaled deeply. “It hurts, LP. It hurts so damn much,” he whimpered. “I-I just… I need to know what happened to Gosalyn. _Please_ _tell me!_ ”

It wasn’t what either of them had been expecting. Launchpad could deal with Drake being in physical pain, but this was something he hadn’t been prepared for. The mention of Gosalyn hurt them both, and Launchpad found himself stumbling for words as his heart constricted in the vice grip that was suddenly in his chest. Earlier feelings were knocked free and Launchpad’s breath choked in his throat. He felt useless all over again.

“She’s fine!” Launchpad said nervously. “That is, fine as she can be I guess. She was upset, really upset, er, that is…” Launchpad cut himself off. He was just making it worse wasn’t he? “I’m sorry, DW!” He apologized fervently, repeating the words over and over as he gripped Drake’s shoulders and hung his head in shame.  “I… I wanted to take care of her, I really did! I-I just, I couldn’t, I don’t… I ju-”

Instantly, the tears stopped. Drake pulled himself from the embrace, staring at Launchpad with wide and watery eyes. “S-she’s okay?” he asked, relieved.

Launchpad’s brain crashed almost audibly at those words. He had it completely wrong. Drake hadn’t been looking to scold him for not being good enough, wasn’t judging him for having to leave Gosalyn in that orphanage, he just wanted to know that she was safe. The realization escaped his lungs in a relieved sigh. “Yeah, she’s okay. Missed you somethin’ fierce. Was pretty upset… we both were.”

Every intuition in Drake's body was bothered to hear that Gosalyn was upset. It made him feel somewhat guilty for being too much of a coward to try calling either of them for the few days he had actually been conscious, but it filled him with warmth to know that someone in the world had cared enough to be upset that he might be dead. He sighed happily, and settled back against the bed with Launchpad’s help. He found the pain dissipating. It still hurt, but finally facing that unknown of what had happened to Gosalyn eased so much of the anguish that he barely even noticed anymore. It didn’t make sense, but Drake found himself now facing the fact that so much of the pain he had been feeling was the sickness of worry, a sort of worry he had never felt before. It was the sting of parental instinct, and he hadn’t even recognized it for what it really was.

Drake was more exhausted now than anything and maybe that was why he didn’t resist when Launchpad finally pushed that button to administer the medicine he should have given into hours ago. It was okay, he reminded himself. It was okay to let people in.

“I really wanted to do somethin’,” Launchpad said miserably, hunching in his chair and fiddling with the small frayed spot on the edge of Drake’s blanket. “Not like I coulda adopted her though being… between homes ‘n all.”

The medicine had fogged Drake’s mind, muffling Launchpad’s voice and blurring his surroundings, but those words pierced the fog and stuck in his ears long enough for him to actually register them. “You’re _homeless_?!” he said, gaping at the other man in disbelief.

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it _homeless_. Just mortgage liberated,” Launchpad replied with an awkward chuckle.

Drake’s expression was borderline horrified.

“It’s not like I’m living on the streets!” Launchpad assured. “Mr. Jack is lettin’ me live in the hanger… gets a bit cold this time a year, but it ain’t so bad, DW. I get to keep the planes company at night.”

“I suppose I understand unusual living situations… but, still.” There was a long pause before Drake continued. “Do you even have any money?”

Launchpad shrugged. “I guess the Thunderquack has been eatin’ up my funds pretty bad since…well, since I moved here.”

“Y-you gave up having an actual home to build that for me?”

The look Launchpad gave clearly expressed his confusion over Drake’s disbelief. “Of course I did, DW,” he said with a grin. “You’re my hero.”

Drake’s eyes watered and his bill quivered with a wobbly smile that he just couldn’t contain. “N-no one’s ever said that to me before.”

“ _Really_?!”

Drake chuckled miserably at the genuine shock in Launchpad’s voice. To this delusional fan it seemed impossible to believe that anyone wouldn’t find Darkwing Duck an image to be idolized, but the reality was far different. Drake knew it, and that made it mean so much more to him that Launchpad did feel that way.

Drake huffed despite the feeling, crossing his injured arm clumsily over his broken one to regain at least some of his composure. “Just too in awe of my awesomeness to say anything I’m sure,” he said. It made his ego feel better to sooth reality away in favor of the picture of heroic perfection that Launchpad made him feel like, but that didn’t stop the unsettling feeling let loose by hearing that Launchpad was homeless. “And my awesomeness says that there is NO way you are going back to that grungy garage and pretending it’s a home. You will live properly with me like a normal person.”

“… It’s normal for two guys who barely know each other to live together?”

Drake flushed slightly. It certainly didn’t sound so normal when he put it _that_ way. “Of course it is!” he huffed. “After all, it’s customary for heroes to live with their sidekicks, isn’t it?”

The grin was instantaneous, huge and shining and filled with so much admiration that Drake nearly wasn’t able to resist smiling back.

“No fooling?!” Launchpad asked excitedly.

“No fooling.”

The appreciation of Launchpad’s reaction was quickly soured by the suffocating embrace that Drake suddenly found himself in, his lungs wheezing and his already wounded ribs screaming at the contact. “LAUNCHPAD! OW, pain, with the broken bones and the _hurting_!”

Launchpad released him immediately, feeling instantly horrible for letting his boisterous emotions make him do something so stupid. “S-sorry! Are you okay?! Do you need anything, DW? Oh my God, did I break you?!”

Drake laughed at the enduring if ridiculous reaction, but he was definitely thankful for the medicine now.  “I’m fine. Just do me one favor, will ya?”

“Anything, DW!”

“Call me Drake.”

* * *

 

That first day outside the hospital was gorgeous. It was sunny, peaceful, despite the nip of fall in the air and Drake probably would have enjoyed it very much. If he wasn’t currently afraid for his life, that is. Drake’s good hand gripped his seat for dear life as his recently proclaimed best friend swerved around yet another corner, breathing heavily as though his life literally depended on taking in more oxygen than was strictly necessary.

The new duo had bonded a lot more in such a short time than Drake would have thought possible, but he learned very quickly that Launchpad didn’t always make the brightest decisions, and despite how much he did genuinely enjoy the other man’s company, at moments like this he seriously wondered if he would actually be able to survive having his first friend ever.

“ _LAUNCHPAD!_ I would like to actually be ALIVE to become a parent if you don’t mind!” Drake screamed. “I’m starting to believe you don’t actually know _how_ to drive!”

“Heh, funny ya say that, Drake, ‘cause that’s exactly what they said when they suspended my license!”

Drake’s eyes bulged. “Suspended your—DOG!”

Launchpad swerved around the oblivious pet without even thinking about it, avoiding the obstacle on instinct as if it were a preprogramed action rather than deliberate thought. “Nah, pretty sure they didn’t suspend my dog… never even had a dog,” he said.

A flabbergasted glare answered him from the passenger seat, but he didn’t really notice as he screeched the car sideways in the general direction of the orphanage parking lot. Drake once again looked like he had just narrowly escaped another near death experience, and he wasted no time stumbling from the car despite how his still injured legs buckled beneath him. He lowered himself gingerly to the ground, sighing in relief as Launchpad busied himself with fetching the crutch from the back seat.

“You okay, Drake? Want me t’ help?” Launchpad asked as he pulled Drake back to his feet.

“NO! I mean, I’m good. Just stay here,” Drake ordered. “Was hard enough to get them to let me adopt a kid without wandering in with a walking natural disaster.” He added the last part under his breath, but it didn’t stop Launchpad from hearing it anyway.

Launchpad frowned slightly, but perked up immediately when Drake stopped dead in his tracks, turning with wide and suddenly searching and uncertain eyes.

“What… what if I can’t do this, LP?”

Launchpad was shocked at the question. Drake always acted so sure of himself, and of anything he had ever told Launchpad, he had never said anything with such certainty and conviction as when he had declared that he was going to adopt Gosalyn and give her a family that would embrace her spirit. That attitude was always there, but yet, even in this short time he had known the man Launchpad could already see those deceptively deep cracks in his façade. Drake was far from as strong and self-assured as he acted. That ego was hiding a lot more than he would like to admit, and it was clearly on display in that moment as Drake hobbled back towards Launchpad, fingers tapping nervously against his crutch and he tried to compose himself.

“I mean, I don’t know how to be a parent! What if I mess it up? What if I turn her into a delinquent? What if I’m a the worst dad ever?!” Drake asked with a nervous waver to his voice. “I can’t even remember the damn milk!”

The anxiety was obvious, sweat forming on his brow and body shivering ever so slightly as Drake looked to Launchpad for some sort of reassurance.

Launchpad smiled sympathetically in response, placing a comforting hand on Drake’s shoulder. “No one knows how to be a parent at first, Drake,” he said softly. “It’s jus somethin’ ya gotta figure out as you go. Gotta feel your way through it, ya know?”

Drake’s silence betrayed his uncertainty. He didn’t know. He felt like he didn’t know anything anymore, and he was suddenly feeling very underqualified to give Gosalyn the life she deserved. It was that bitter sting of insecurity that had plagued him his entire life, and he was quickly slipping into that not-so-healthy headspace that could easily devolve into full blow depression. Launchpad could see it, but that didn’t stop him from  gently coaxing Drake to turn back around so he was once again facing the orphanage and the little girl inside that his heart had been aching for ever since he left her.

“Besides, there’s an awesome kid in there that deserves an awesome dad.” Launchpad bent over slightly, smiling broadly at Drake as his friend evaluated the brick structure with searching eyes. “Know any heroes up to the task?”

“Yeah,” Drake said, softly at first before his demeanor straightened and his chest puffed with self-confidence. “Yeah! Now that you mention it, Darkwing Dad has a nice ring to it.”

There was that spark, that _spirit_ , and Launchpad smiled proudly at it as Drake walked away with far more strength and intent than he had figured his still battered body was capable of. He didn’t make it far though, turning on his heels almost immediately to send a grateful grin towards his comrade.

“Thanks,” Drake said earnestly, “ _Sidekick_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I was born in Sparrow Hospital. Bird name, I use.   
> Yup.


End file.
